


Duluth

by Jen Hall (Greenlady)



Series: Twenty/Twenty [6]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: F/F, M/M, Original Character(s), Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-15 15:04:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13615890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Jen%20Hall
Summary: Starsky and Hutch receive a surprise visit from a family member. Set just after chapter 3 of Combat.





	1. Chapter 1

Starsky’s first few days as a BCPD detective were exhausting. Hutch had those same few days off, since his own new status as a detective was being arranged and a partner found to teach him the ropes. This allowed Hutch to give Starsky all the support and loving care he needed at home. 

Hutch could be grumpy – positively crabby at times – and he could seem insensible to Starsky’s feelings at times, even now. But when enough clues to those feelings were presented to him – or when Starsky yelled at him loudly enough – Hutch could turn from the most standoffish, icy-eyed, cold-hearted SOB Starsky had ever lived with and slept with, into the warmest, most loving and protective, tenderest and most sensual being Starsky had ever known in any form in his entire life. It was worth it, he thought. To watch, and listen to, and feel that transformation, was worth every pin prick of irritation over Hutch’s distancing tactics. It was like watching a frozen river suddenly turn into a beautiful, bountiful, flowing stream, with flowers lining the banks and cute little baby bunnies playing tag among them. 

Understanding didn’t always make life easier, thought Starsky. Understanding people didn’t always make it easier to live with them. Starsky knew the origin of Hutch’s distancing tactics, and his knowing didn’t erase the pain. His knowing made the pain more…painful. Almost unbearable at times. But then Hutch would come back to himself, and shorten the distance between them, or end it altogether, and life would be sweet again. Life would be flowing with milk and honey. Or burning with fire from heaven. Those icy eyes, which could see all and consign all they saw to an inner circle of hell, those eyes could glitter with happiness, turn soft and warm with tenderness, or, in those times of heavenly fire, turn dark with passion. 

Bouts of wild passion that left Starsky exhausted, drained, dripping with sweat and begging for mercy. That was his greatest reward for tolerating Hutch’s bad moods. When Starsky was wrapped in those powerful arms, like steel bands that would never let him go. When his heart was pounding so hard he thought it would burst, and Hutch continued to thrust his enormous, dark red cock into Starsky without mercy – though who would want such mercy, thought Starsky? Not him. He would kill anyone who suggested he should actually insist upon mercy. When Hutch utterly forgot himself and his inhibitions and claimed him utterly for his own: ‘You belong to me, with me. No one else. Never touch anyone else. Never. I won’t let you….’ The thrill of that claiming ran through his veins like a firestorm. Starsky had no fear of that fire. 

After one of these sessions, they would fall into an exhausted sleep. Starsky would usually be unable to move or speak, even after he woke. But when he woke, Hutch would always be there, watching him. Starsky would open his eyes and Hutch would be looking at him with such tenderness….

So, yes, his life might not always be easy, but he wouldn’t exchange it for anything else on earth. 

He came home one morning, after a long night on a stakeout – he and his new partner Norton caught the guys – and Hutch was waiting with breakfast. Starsky grabbed something to eat, and said he needed a shower. ‘I smell rank,’ he said.

‘You smell incredible,’ Hutch argued. ‘I love the smell of your sweat.’

‘Thanks, buddy, but after a night in Norton's car – it’s even messier than yours, by the way, I didn’t think that was possible! – I feel all itchy.’

‘Come on. Let’s get a shower, and I’ll pick off any fleas and eat them.’

‘Ewww. Hutch!’

They had a nice long shower. Hutch got to his knees and gave Starsky a lovely, tender blow job, and said he’d take his turn later. ‘You’re too tired, Starsk. You’d fall asleep with my cock in your mouth – yes you would, don’t argue – and that would be so frustrating I can’t even tell you. Come and lie on the sofa with me. Get some sleep, would’ja?’ Starsky let himself be half dragged over to the sofa, dressed only in a towel, and arranged with his head in Hutch’s lap. He lay for a while, sleepily watching Hutch read a book. The palm trees across the street were bending hypnotically in the breeze. Hutch held the book in one hand and ran his fingers through the hair on Starsky’s chest with the other. Sometimes the hand would dip lower, and gently stroke his cock. Not enough to rouse, just to send little shivers of pleasure through…. 

Starsky didn’t even notice falling asleep.

He woke up a couple of hours later, feeling much better thanks, and it was so convenient that he already had his head in Hutch’s lap. 

They finished their second shower of the day and were starting to get lunch, dressed only in jeans, with towels around their necks. They kept exchanging little touches filled with love. Then the doorbell rang.

Starsky went to open the door, as Hutch was busy making sandwiches. Two young women stood there, about twenty years old. One was small, a bit stocky but cute, dressed in loose-fitting jeans and shirts. Her dark hair was cut short, and she had piercings in her ears and eyebrows. The other was a bit taller, with icy blue eyes and soft, silky hair. Blonde hair. ‘Ummm,’ said Starsky. Haven't I seen a picture of you just recently, he thought. Weren't you supposed to call....

The dark-haired girl spoke up first. ‘Hello? Does Officer Hutchinson live here?’

‘It’s Detective Hutchinson now,’ said Hutch. He was standing in the kitchen doorway, laughing.

Starsky turned to Hutch, then back to the girls in the doorway, then back to Hutch. He had to lean against the door suddenly, feeling a bit dizzy. ‘Ummm,’ he said again. ‘Hutch?’

‘Ken?’ the blonde girl said.

‘Barbara? What are you doing here?’

‘Hutch? I had to come here. I had to get away. We had to get away….’

‘We?’ 

‘We. This is Marcia. She’s my…my girlfriend.’

‘Hi,’ said Marcia. ‘I’m Marcia. I’m her girlfriend… as in girlfriend, you know?’

‘Well, yeah, we know,’ said Starsky. ‘We know now. We perfectly know now.’

‘Starsky, you’re babbling,’ said Hutch. ‘Barbara. Marcia. Come in. Close the door, Starsky.’ Hutch pointed to some chairs. He addressed the girls. ‘Sit,’ he said. ‘What’s this all about?’

Barbara looked at him for a moment, then threw herself into his arms and burst into tears. ‘Oh, Hutch,’ she wailed. ‘You’re alive. I thought you were dead. I’ve missed you so much. I thought you were dead.’


	2. Chapter 2

Hutch was sitting quietly on the sofa, Barbara curled up beside him. They both seemed happy and settled for now. 

‘My family paid for our plane tickets,’ Marcia explained. ‘They gave us some money to get by for a while. They know about our relationship, and… well, I wouldn’t exactly say they’re thrilled and overwhelmed with approval, but they’re on our side. They hate what’s been going on in Duluth.’

‘What exactly has been going on?’ asked Starsky.

‘The Rise of the Extreme Right!’ said Marcia, with a lot of eye-rolling and dramatic arm flailing. 

‘Marcia jokes, but it is no joke, trust me,’ said Barbara. ‘They have yet to get to brown shirted youth marching in jackboots in the streets, but I would not be shocked to see it on the news tonight.’

‘I haven’t been back to…to the old homestead since….’ Hutch's throat seemed to close up and Starsky was instantly at his side. Or, rather, kneeling at his feet and pulling him close for a kiss. Several kisses. He heard Marcia chuckle from her chair behind him, and took a quick glance at Barbara. She was blushing. Giggling. A little uncertain about how to deal with all these revelations about her brother. 

‘You see?’ said Marcia. ‘I told you. Gay men kiss and make out and…and do all kinds of things I don’t want to know about. Not in detail, please, guys. But they love each other just like we do.’

‘Oh, I’m glad Ken, I’m glad,’ said Barbara. ‘I just wasn’t sure what to expect. At first. When I called the other day, and your Mr. Starsky answered.’

‘Detective Starsky!’ said Hutch, with a grin. His eyes were bright, glowing like diamonds. Barbara glowed back at him. What a pair, thought Starsky to himself. Why couldn’t their parents love and accept them as they were? Like his own mother had gradually accepted him….

********

His mother had not been thrilled when he’d told her he was gay. She’d cried a little. Been confused and worried and asked him all the usual questions. Warned him about gay bashers and AIDS, and all kinds of things he already knew about in his bones. Eventually she reached a level of acceptance they both could be comfortable with.

But never had Starsky doubted his mother loved him. Not for a moment had he feared that she’d throw him out of the house, deny he was her son, or send him to some kind of sick 21st century concentration camp. We Jews know about concentration camps, he thought. 

By the time Starsky met and fell in love with Hutch, they were at a point where he could talk to her on the phone about his love life, as long as he left out any discussion of his sex life, and he wouldn't have talked about that to her if he'd been totally hetero. His mother was still a bit skeptical about the whole business, still seemed to think he’d ‘grow out of it if he met a good woman’, but she’d listen to him as he told her about the glories of his lover. 

‘He looks like a Norse god, Mommy,’ he said. ‘No, honestly. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Listen, Ma. I love men. Everything about them is beautiful to me. If I tell you this is the most beautiful… just believe me, okay? I sent you pictures. Didn’t you look?’

‘Yes, yes, Davey. He’s… okay.’

‘Okay!’ Starsky had been outraged.

‘He’s Norse, right? Yeah, American, but I mean his ethnic background is Norse. Those Scandinavian types….’

‘Oh, Mommy, Hutch isn’t racist. Trust me. He’s not just beautiful outside, but inside as well. He’s so kind and strong and brave. He scares me, sometimes, how brave he is. I’d die for him, and I think he’d die for me….’ Starsky went on in this vein for some time, and had her nearly convinced. But a great sea-change took place when he persuaded Hutch to let him give his own mother a few details about the way Hutch’s parents had treated him. 

‘His mother allowed this? His _mother?_ What mother would act that way? If I ever meet her, I’ll give her a piece of my mind.’

‘You’ll get no argument from me,’ he said. He sent her pictures of Hutch and himself together. Pictures of them running along the beach at Venice, hand in hand. Dancing in nightclubs, arms around each other. Gazing into each other’s eyes.

‘He loves you, Davey,’ his mother said, at last. ‘I could tell you loved him, but I wasn’t sure….’

‘Oh, it’s returned,’ Starsky told her. 

Now, most times he called his mother, she and Hutch would talk on the phone for a while, and last year she’d asked him to call her Mom. Starsky had thought Hutch would never stop crying.

********

‘Detective Starsky,’ Barbara laughingly agreed. ‘He informed me of that when he threatened to have me arrested for calling you.’

‘What?’ Hutch looked at him with outrage, but it was mock outrage.

‘I didn’t know who she was, Babe,’ he told Hutch. ‘Or what she was up to.’

‘I forgive you, Detective Starsky…’

‘Call me Dave,’ he graciously informed her. ‘Not Starsky. My relatives call me Dave, and you’re my sister-in-law. Marcia can call me Dave too, if she likes.'

Marcia chuckled, and allowed as how she liked the idea.

‘I forgive you, Dave,’ Barbara went on. ‘I was already freaked out over everything that was going on. Finding out that Ken was still alive was the last straw.’

‘They really told you I was dead?’ Hutch laughed. It wasn’t one of his most pleasant laughs.

‘Oh, yes. They told me most gay people in the world were dead of AIDS, or been killed by….’

‘By what, Barb?’ 

‘They talked about some kind of freedom fighters. I know. Freedom from what?’

‘Gay people?’ Starsky suggested.

‘Lesbians?’ was Hutch’s contribution.

‘Anyone who doesn’t conform,’ Marcia tossed in.

‘All that and more,’ said Barbara. ‘But they mostly targeted gay people, because… I gather we’re some kind of cosmic threat to the entire universe, more so than any other minority group.’ 

‘We can’t reproduce, not while having sex with each other, the way we prefer,’ said Marcia. ‘Not every heterosexual reproduces when he or she has sex, but most do, or at least they can. No gay couple, no lesbian couple can. That’s proof we’re utterly evil.’

‘Our parents…’ Barbara began to say. Starsky felt Hutch jerk a little in his arms, and shudder, almost in pain. 

‘Just a minute, Barb,’ he intervened. ‘Let’s have some lunch before we go on, shall we? I’ll go finish making those sandwiches, Blondie. Why don’t you get us all coffee? I can’t listen to all this shit on an empty stomach.’

‘Your Detective Starsky isn’t just a mother hen, is he Ken?’ he heard Marcia say as he headed for the kitchen. ‘He’s a mother bear.’ He heard Hutch sigh and murmur his agreement and approval as he put the already prepared sandwiches on a big plate and started making more.


	3. Chapter 3

Starsky insisted they all eat lunch sitting at the dining table. It was small, but had enough room, and the change of venue gave all of them, not just Hutch, a break from discussing traumatic subjects. Hutch seemed to have recovered his sangfroid, and entertained them all with some of the more amusing stories of his days in uniform. 

‘It all seems so long ago now,’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ Starsky agreed. ‘Like way back last week.’

‘Starsky made detective several weeks before me, and he’ll never let me forget,’ said Hutch. ‘He’s a few months older too.’

‘Nine months,’ Starsky added.

‘And I’ll always be younger and have less seniority.’

‘It’s not a competition, Babe.’

‘Oh, but it is,’ said Hutch. He turned to look at Barbara and Marcia. ‘I don’t know if it’s like this with Lesbian couples, or with hetero couples for that matter. But with two men, no matter how much we love each other and get along, there’s always a bit of a struggle going on. A competition. A battle for supremacy. It breaks up some couples. If one man wins the battle for good, the other might leave, or maybe he becomes more and more…hmm….’

‘Downtrodden?’ Starsky suggested. ‘Some guys are happy that way, but I can’t ever see that happening to you, Blondie. And I wouldn’t ever do that to you anyway.’

‘No,’ Hutch agreed. ‘Nor would it happen to you. I wouldn’t allow it. But that’s why we keep arguing and fighting it out. If you hear us arguing, or fighting,’ he told his sister and her lover. ‘If you hear Starsky yell at me and call me names… it’s not because we don’t love each other any longer. If we stopped fighting, that would be a sign we didn’t care. As long as we care, we’ll keep each other honest, and wide awake.’

‘What kind of names…’ Marcia began. Then coughed and apologized, tried to change the subject.

Hutch just laughed. ‘Son of a bitch is a popular one. Since I think my mother qualifies for that title of bitch, I don’t mind. She was married to my father when she had me, though. I wish he’d quit referring to me as illegitimate.’

‘Just goes to show you. Being married doesn’t make you a good parent,’ said Starsky.

‘No.’ Hutch turned to him, looked into his eyes. His own eyes, which had been warm and full of laughter had turned almost opaque. Not yet like chips of ice, though. ‘When do you go back on duty, Detective?’

‘Morning,’ said Starsky. Hutch knew that already, but… ‘Unless Bay City gets hit by a crime wave and they need my assistance.’

‘Okay, that would be unlikely, but you never know,’ said Hutch. ‘Let’s get down to business. Clear up some loose ends, agreed?’ 

Everyone made murmurs of agreement. ‘I’ll go put on a T-shirt.’ He picked up the dirty lunch plates to carry out to the kitchen on his way to change. ‘Didn’t you have any luggage with you?’ he tossed over his shoulder.

‘Yeah,’ said Marcia. ‘We put it in lockers at the airport, because we didn’t know….’

‘We’ll go pick it up later, bring it back here. We have a spare bedroom we’re using as a study. It has a little sofa that folds down and can be used as a bed if you shift some furniture around. Come along, let me show you.’ Barbara and Marcia followed him to the spare bedroom/study/library. ‘Tight quarters but it’s yours as long as you need it,’ said Hutch. ‘Hang onto your money, okay?’ He went into their own bedroom, across the hall, rummaged through a drawer, and started tugging a T-shirt over his head. Barbara and Marcia were standing in the men’s bedroom doorway, fascinated by the huge bed and the mirror on the ceiling overhead. 

Starsky came to join them, to sneak a glance at the girls’ faces as they eyed the mirror. ‘Umm,’ said Barbara. ‘Okay. Wow! Hutch, the spare bedroom is just fine, even if it is a bit small. I couldn’t sleep in that big bed, and I don’t think Marcie could either. The mirror would make me nervous.’

Hutch laughed. ‘It was Starsky’s idea, and it made me nervous at first too. But now…Starsky’s so pretty when he….’

‘Never mind,’ said Starsky. ‘Now you’re making the ladies nervous.’

Barbara didn’t actually look nervous, but she was blushing and giggling again, as she and Marcia headed for the living room. This was nice and easy, he thought. Now to make sure Hutch is calm. Starsky stopped Hutch in his tracks as he prepared to join them. He leaned back against the doorway, and made himself passive and relaxed and open to Hutch’s caresses. Whatever caresses Hutch wanted to give him, whatever parts of his body Hutch wanted to bestow his caresses upon. He could hear Barbara call out, ‘Hey, guys, you coming?’ And then both she and Marcia choked with sudden laughter. 

‘Really, Barb!’ said Marcia.

‘I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t mean….’

‘It’s okay,’ Starsky replied. ‘We’ll be there in a minute.’ He closed his eyes and went back to being the passive recipient of Hutch’s caresses and kisses. Gentle touches, soft kisses. A low murmuring verbal caress of love. A careful slow rocking of Hutch’s groin against his. Hutch’s cock was not erect, his touches weren’t urgent and desperate. If they had been, Starsky would have told the girls to wait longer and taken his lover into the bedroom to give him release. But Hutch was calm. The touches and kisses slowed. His breathing slowed. Starsky opened his eyes, to see his lover’s beautiful eyes looking down into his. 

‘I’m fine,’ Hutch told him. ‘You want to join them now?’

Starsky looked up at Hutch, considering. You wanna let me take control? His question was silent. Non-verbal, rather, and assented to in the same manner. ‘Sure,’ said Starsky, out loud. 

They went out to the living room. Barbara was pouring fresh coffee for them all, and Marcia was intently studying the street outside the house. They studiously avoided looking directly at the two men. Hutch relaxed on the sofa and smiled at Barbara. ‘It’s okay, baby sister,’ he said. ‘You’ll get used to us. We…we like to pet each other a lot.’

Starsky made a soft, assenting sound as he went to the table that held the computer and telephone. He opened a drawer and drew out a folder filled with his research into various aspects of Hutch’s ‘case’. He walked over to Hutch and their eyes met. Hutch relaxed more, let Starsky get up behind him on the sofa and push him down to sit on the floor between Starsky’s legs. Starsky wrapped his legs around Hutch’s body, so he could feel if the man got tense. He could calm him with gentle, non-sexual touches. 

Barbara and Marcia joined them near the sofa, sitting together in a large armchair. Now they all portrayed a united front, us against them. ‘Them’ being homophobes of all genders and sexualities, thought Starsky.

‘When you called a few days ago,’ Starsky began. ‘I was doing some research, with Hutch’s permission, into his – your – family, and certain circumstances. We need to discuss this, so we’re on the same page, so we all understand what’s going on when Hutch has strange reactions to certain things. He….’

Hutch patted Starsky’s leg, and Starsky paused to let him talk. He would have known anyway, but Hutch couldn’t see his face from this position, and so his access to non-verbal clues was a bit more limited. ‘I do have some unusual reactions to things,’ he told the women. ‘Do you remember, Barb, when I went away for a while? It was about twelve, thirteen years ago now. I was fifteen. Mom and… and Dad threw me out of the house.’

‘I remember. They said you ran away. They said you’d been caught doing something bad, and ran away.’

‘They kicked me out because I was gay. I had no money, no job, nothing. I had to do things to survive that….’

‘You were hooking?’ asked Marcia, in a gentle voice. ‘I’ve had some friends who got kicked out and had to do the same. One of them got murdered last year. My parents said they’d never do that.’ 

Barbara put her head in her hands and cried. ‘Don’t cry, Barb,’ said Hutch. ‘I survived and I’m okay now. Most of the guys who picked me up were pretty kind. Starsky hates them, of course, but I would have starved….’

‘I know, baby,’ said Starsky. ‘It was all a nasty, ugly situation, and none of it was your fault.’

‘But then things got worse. Tell them, Starsky. I’m going to zone out for a while.’ He leaned back into Starsky’s body, and gave up all control, while Starsky talked. 

Starsky told the women about the gay conversion camps. Marcia, as usual, had heard a little about them, but not all the details. They both gasped and cried and looked at Hutch with agonized horror. Hutch had his eyes closed and didn’t appear to pay any attention, until suddenly he asked, ‘They told you nothing of this, Barb?’

Barbara dried her tears, and leaned forward, looking at her brother. ‘They told me you’d committed some horrible crimes that were unspeakable and had been arrested and in jail, but they’d had you released. They said you’d been insane, but now you were better and could come home. You were…you were so thin, so strange. I didn’t know what to think. I couldn’t believe you would do anything terrible, but I didn’t know what to think, and you…you seemed so strange and far away.’

Hutch sat silently for a long time, just leaning against Starsky’s body. ‘The camps Starsky told you about… they vary in how harsh they are. It depends on who runs them. They’re not supervised. All of them are cruel in one way or another, because we can’t be converted from gay or Lesbian to straight. We can change our behavior, for one reason or another. We can decide to never act on our desires, but we can’t be changed. The people who run these camps, I don’t know if they believe it themselves. I don’t know if they really believe they’re helping us somehow, or if they just enjoy torturing kids. We…we were starved and beaten and electrocuted. Our parents signed papers turning me over to that, and the camps are legal.’

‘How can they be?’ asked Barbara.

‘Because the various religious groups say it’s all protected by the laws against religious prejudice, and all of us at those camps were minors. Parents have the right to correct their children’s behavior, to treat their children for what they see as illnesses even if the rest of the world doesn’t see it that way. The starvings and the beatings were all portrayed as treatment to shock us into heterosexuality, and when that didn’t work, we were given actual electrical shock treatments. Eventually, my resistance ran out, and I promised to do anything to go home and be allowed to eat a meal in peace.’

Starsky noticed that Hutch hadn’t mentioned the rapes or the strangulations. He didn’t blame him for that. The story he had told was bad enough. He bent down and whispered in Hutch’s ear. ‘You okay, Babe.’

Hutch sat up and stretched. ‘I’m okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s go pick up that luggage from the airport and get you women settled? Hmmm?’

Starsky studied Hutch’s face. He looked calm. Quiet, but not too quiet. So Starsky agreed. ‘Okay, ‘he said. ‘But I’m driving.’


	4. Chapter 4

They talked of light-hearted things on the way to the airport. Hutch was in a good mood, as he had been since it sunk in that he had a family – an actual family now, that loved him, other than Starsky. Starsky himself was overjoyed. He had his own family, besides Hutch. His mother and brother. Uncles and aunts. Cousins by the dozens, both here in the US, and in Israel. Hutch had seemed to accept he had no one. Was that really true, Starsky wondered, or had Hutch been lied to about that as well, and had been too despondent to investigate the truth? 

Whatever the truth of his family situation, thought Starsky, Hutch had handled it as well as could possibly be expected. Better than he himself could have handled it, he was sure, without the love of his family that had always been at his centre. Hutch hadn’t given into despair and drowned himself in alcohol and drugs. Or in the lake for that matter. He hadn’t become bitter and turned into a bigot like his family. He hadn’t been filled with self-hatred or decided to abuse himself with promiscuity as a punishment. Starsky had nothing against promiscuity in and of itself if that was what someone wanted. He’d engaged in some bouts of promiscuity in his early years. He’d had threesomes and foursomes, and, well, an orgy or two. He’d realized it wasn’t what he wanted in time to stop, take a good long look at himself, and set himself on a safer, healthier path. Hutch had had the sense never to step onto that more dangerous path. With his wounded psyche and his deep – almost bottomless – well, Starsky had yet to touch bottom – with his deep emotional needs, the path of promiscuity filled as it was with landmines and sniper nests and armies with terrible banners, the path of promiscuity may have been fatal. 

He had made wise choices for the most part. Marrying Vanessa had not been one of those in the long run, but in the short run it had gotten his parents off his back for long enough to graduate from Harvard. When he’d learned of his parents’ lies about his police record he’d finally had a talk with Vanessa about their future as a couple and learned it didn’t exist any more than had the record. She’d been paid to marry him. He’d told her, ‘Thanks. You want me to file for divorce or would you rather do it yourself?’ That being settled he’d moved to California to start an entirely new life.

Enter Starsky. Stage left. Armed with love, terrible as an army with banners. 

He felt Hutch put his hand on his knee, and took his eyes off the road for just a moment to share a glance filled with just a little of that love. The girls were in the back seat, cuddling and giggling as they took in the sights of LA. ‘Wait until you see West Hollywood,’ said Starsky. ‘Have either of you ever been there?’

‘Uh, no,’ said Marcia. ‘I came here with my family on a vacation about ten years ago. West Hollywood was not on the itinerary.’ She chuckled. ‘I’ve heard things, though.’

‘Whatever you heard,’ said Hutch. ‘It couldn’t possibly be even close to the truth. A city whose population is almost entirely LGBTQ people, and it’s so far from the sink of depravity the homophobes must picture in their minds when they masturbate in bed alone to their secret desires, before getting up the next morning and telling us we’re going to burn in hell and calling for the laws restricting marriage to one man and one woman…. Oh, WeHo isn’t perfect, but the city tries. Just to walk along the Strip is worth ten therapy sessions at least. Starsky and I – we don’t cruise. I loathe cruising, from both sides of the equation. Starsky doesn’t need to cruise. He has me. He can cruise me anytime he likes.’

‘Thanks,’ said Starsky. ‘I will.’

‘But we go there just to walk down the street and know we’re in the majority, and it’s not just a neighbourhood, like the Castro or Christopher Street, or something. Gay men. Lesbians. Trans people. Everywhere you look, throughout the city, as far as the eye can see.’ He sighed and leaned back in his seat. ‘My kind of city.’

‘Wow!’ said Barbara. ‘Can we go there? Drive through?’

‘On our way back? Sure,’ said Starsky. ‘Stop for dinner? Hutch?’

Hutch sat up, looking boyishly eager, as he hadn’t in a long time. ‘Yes. Let’s get dinner on the way home.’

‘Good idea,’ said Starsky, as if the idea had been entirely Hutch’s. 

LAX was the usual nightmare, but between the four of them they were able to find the relevant locker without too much trouble.

‘Okay,’ said Marcia. ‘Here’s my suitcase. Here’s yours, Barb.’

‘Thanks. Here’s your keyboard. And Ken, here’s your guitar. There! Mission accomplished.’ She emerged from the depths of the locker with an old, beat up guitar case in her hands. 

‘My…my guitar?’

‘Yes, Hutch. Your guitar. I kept it for you.’

‘You…but they burned it. They told me they….’

‘No. I kept it for you. I told them I wanted it, and I was their Golden Girl then. All pretty and blonde and feminine, and playing the guitar was an okay hobby, along with the ballet and shit like that. Not that I didn’t love ballet and music. I still do. And it was useful. I kept it for you, Hutch. If you don’t want it, that’s okay.’

Hutch had been standing there, staring at Barbara in a trance. Starsky wanted to take him in his arms, but no…. This was between him and his sister. Starsky was tired. He hadn’t had much sleep lately. The nap this morning had been good, and the sex better, but he couldn’t keep going on adrenaline for days the way Hutch could. He needed sleep before going in to work tomorrow morning, or he’d be useless. Dealing with the emotional upheaval created by the sudden appearance in their lives of Hutch’s sister had already been exhausting, though Starsky would sacrifice any amount of his own comfort to take care of Hutch’s. Now, looking back and forth between Hutch’s face and Barbara’s he saw to his pleasure that it might not be necessary. 

‘You…you really kept it for me?’ Hutch asked, in that little boy voice that appeared once in a while to tear open Starsky’s heart.

‘Yes, Dummy. Take it.’

Hutch took the guitar case in his arms, looking at Barbara as if she were an angel who had just handed him the Holy Grail. 

‘Okay!’ said Starsky. ‘Let’s go get dinner. I’m starved.’


	5. Chapter 5

They stopped at a favourite restaurant in West Hollywood for dinner. Hutch refused to leave his guitar in the car, and carried it into the restaurant with him, though he had not yet opened the case. He kept looking at it as it sat on the floor near his feet. 

‘Should I be jealous?’ asked Starsky. 

‘Yes. It’s a bit more fragile than you are, but it won’t argue with me as much, so I’m leaving you and….’

‘We’ll see about that,’ said Starsky. 

Hutch laughed. Starsky played footsie with him under the table, and his eyes went soft and full of love. It took so little to please him, Starsky thought. Not much more to turn him to mush in Starsky’s hands. Only a little more than that and he…. God, Hutch, he thought, how I love you.

Starsky thought about manipulative gold diggers of all genders getting their claws into him, using his beauty and goodness, and essentially generous and loving and passionate and giving nature for their own ends. Hutch was strong, stronger than was hinted at by his gorgeous face and beautiful body and the warm, rich honeyed tones of his voice -- that voice that poured wordless love sounds all over Starsky’s body when they lay in bed, joined as intimately as two people could be and still be two people. That voice that lit fires in Starsky that he hadn’t known could be possible, and then cooled his fevered blood so that he could breathe and see and think and move again. Oh, yes, Hutch was strong. 

Starsky thought that he himself had yet to learn of the depths of his own strength. It wouldn’t be easy for a destructive user to take him down, and yet…. Starsky imagined years of being used and discarded when his user was done with him. The man wasn’t only a pretty face. His beauty was bred into his bones, and it would last. But after years of suffering without the love he needed, getting more and more bitter, settling for nothing more than a warm body in bed to keep away the darkness and loneliness, men, and maybe women too, when he’d become sickened by the men, people who knew nothing about his true needs, about the true beauty he possessed, who maybe mocked his needs as weakness. How long would his sweetness last? How long until the ice in his veins took over, without someone who could melt that ice and bring him alive in bed? How long before the act of love became a mechanical act of sex, and before all his bed partners were kicked out the next morning, so they had no chance to hurt him? 

Starsky shuddered. To comfort himself he reached out and stroked Hutch’s beautiful mouth with his thumb, then leaned over and kissed it. 

‘Starsk?’ Hutch looked concerned. ‘You worried about something?’

‘Hmmm. No, no. I’m just tired. I’m not Iron Man like you.’

‘Aww. We’re almost finished here, right guys? We’ll be home soon, and you can get some sleep. I just got a text from Metro. They have me partnered up with Detective Rachel Ward. I start next week. In the meantime, they want me to spend some time at the gym and the firing range, just to make sure I’m in good shape.’

‘Mm mm. You’re in great shape, Babe.’

‘That’s sweet of you to say, but I don’t think they’d take your word for it. They probably have the idea you are somewhat biased. I can use another weapon, other than the department issue, right? I want to try a Magnum. Something with more firepower. Maybe not right away, because I don’t want to look pushy, but…in a while. In the meantime, I can get used to the larger gun.’

Marcia spoke up. ‘I’d like to learn to shoot,’ she said. ‘Just to learn. In case. Can you recommend a good place?’

‘Sure,’ said Starsky. ‘We have a small armoury of our own, and if Hutch is off work for the next few days, he can take you to try out some guns, get an idea of what would be best for you to use. You don’t want anything too big and heavy, at your size and weight. The gun I use is small, but it uses a clip with 14 rounds and one in the chamber, and it’s accurate. That’s more important than power for me. Hutch has large hands, really powerful hands, and with a Magnum he could blow any threat away…. That would be useful if his partner had a smaller, more accurate weapon.’

Barbara shivered. ‘I don’t want to learn to shoot,’ she said. ‘Guns make me nervous, but I guess I have to get used to that now.’

‘We keep ours safely locked up,’ said Starsky. ‘And we don’t use them to show off.’

‘But you’re wearing them now.’

‘Two each,’ said Hutch. ‘Don’t worry about being hijacked on the way home.’

‘Let’s head for home now, Blondie,’ said Starsky, handing Hutch the keys to his car. ‘I think I’m too tired to drive.’

Hutch got behind the wheel and they started on their way, but Hutch decided to stop at a bakery that was still open and get a cake to celebrate his new, expanded family. Hutch rarely wanted desserts, so this was something remarkable. He drove up at the front of their house and got out of the car. The girls insisted on carrying their own luggage. Hutch had his guitar and Starsky took charge of the cake box. The girls walked on ahead. Hutch put his arm over Starsky’s shoulder and pulled him close. They heard a squeal of tires, and loud voices screaming, ‘Fags. Faggots. Kill all fags!’ Then the car drove off at top speed, into the night.

Hutch dropped the guitar case and reached for his gun. Starsky managed to put the cake down safely before taking his lover’s gun arm. ‘Baby, baby. It’s no use, you can’t kill them at this distance.’ He could feel Hutch’s entire body shaking.

Hutch turned on him in a rage. His face would have intimidated just about anyone else, but Starsky didn’t blink. 

‘Those sick sons of bitches,’ said Hutch. ‘They come to one of our neighbourhoods, right out in front of our house? I thought those days were over.’

‘I don’t think they’ll ever be over,’ Starsky noted. ‘Come on. Let’s go inside….’

‘To hide?’ asked Hutch, his voice dripping with scorn. ‘Hide in our closet maybe? Don’t try to calm me down.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it. I don’t want to hide, I want to eat cake.’

‘It’s not funny.’

‘No, no it isn’t, but I still want to eat cake. Listen to you play the guitar? Come on. Come on inside. We’ll hunt them down later and put them out of their misery. Hutch?’ He held Hutch’s furious eyes for a long moment, and then Hutch reluctantly put his gun back in the holster.


	6. Chapter 6

Hutch spent some time stomping around the apartment, using extremely colourful language. Starsky wanted to tell him he was beautiful when he was angry -- and would have done so if they’d been alone. The resulting explosion and its climax, as Starsky well knew from previous experience, was not for public consumption. He could handle it. More than handle it. He loved it. 

Instead, he busied himself with helping Barbara and Marcia set up the fold-down sofa in the study – now doubling as the spare room. He’d put the cake safely in the kitchen. Hutch would have likely thrown it at him if he’d suggested eating it. Again, that would have been fine if they’d been alone. Starsky wanted to eat cake, but didn’t necessarily have to eat if off a plate. 

Of all the things he loved about Hutch – and there were many – one of the best was his contrasts: the contrast between the beauty of his face and body and his gnarly temper, for a start. Hutch could be the sweetest man he’d ever met in his life when it suited him – which was too little of the time, to be sure, though often enough for his purposes. When he didn’t feel like making the effort, his temper shifted between patrician coldness and spontaneous combustion, sometimes in the same five minute interval. The fascinating thing for Starsky was that Hutch was still the same person. There was no hint of any kind of psychopathology, as there would be for someone with a split personality. Hutch was perfectly sane – almost scarily so. 

Starsky’s own personality was steadier, more stable. He stayed calm through the peaceful times and the stormy times. He did get angry, but the anger built up and eased off slowly, with no sudden surges either way. Hutch could turn on a dime, either way. Over the years since they’d become lovers, Starsky had learned how to survive the storms without breaking, and even to affect the passage of those storms. He’d learned how to manipulate Hutch’s internal weather. The amazing thing was that Hutch knew Starsky was doing so. He allowed it, as he allowed Starsky to do or say anything to him, without reprisal. Not any kind of true reprisal, at least, though he was fully capable of trading insult for insult. Hutch’s temper was a chancy thing, but the weather vane always turned back to wind from the south or west, with lots of sunny breaks. Starsky could live with that -- and did.

‘Do we have enough clean sheets for that bed?’ asked Hutch from the doorway. ‘If not, I can do laundry, won’t take long.’ It was the closest thing they’d get to an apology for his tantrum, but Hutch didn’t really owe them one. They all understood the reasons for the explosion, and that it hadn’t been directed at them. 

Starsky checked the linen cupboard and found clean sheets. They were too big for the sofa, but that was better than too small, they decided. 

‘I’ll go shopping tomorrow,’ said Hutch. ‘Get a couple of pairs of double sheets. Even if you find your own place soon – and that’s not a hint. I love having you here.’

‘Thanks, Ken,’ said Barbara. ‘We really appreciate it, and we’ll try not to be a nuisance. You guys are so kind.’

‘Oh, I can be hard to live with though. But even if you decide I’m too much to take, and you move out soon, it’s a good idea to have sheets for this thing. We haven’t had overnight guests since we moved in. Don’t know why.’

Starsky choked on his coffee. Yes, you do, he thought, but didn’t say out loud. ‘Why don’t we have cake?’ he suggested. ‘And then why don’t you open the guitar case? I really want to see that thing you’ve been hiding from me all evening.’ He headed for the kitchen to get the cake box and avoid Hutch’s raised eyebrow at his double entendre. 

When they were all settled with cake, and more coffee, Hutch finally opened the case. He sat looking down into the case for a long moment of silence, then lifted the guitar out, reverently.

‘I took good care of it, Ken,’ said Barbara.

‘I can see that. Thanks, Barb.’ The guitar looked like some kind of classical guitar, not electric, though Starsky was no expert.

‘Those are fresh strings,’ Barbara continued. ‘And there’s a second set in the little compartment. Picks. Your music books….’

‘You are amazing. Everyone should have a little sister like you.’

‘Hey, I’m not so little any longer!’ But she was laughing.

‘Well,’ said Hutch. ‘You’ll always be younger than I am, just like I’ll always be younger than Starsky. That’s just a given. It’s been so long since I played guitar, though. Don’t expect too much tonight, okay? I need to work on the flexibility of my fingers. Build up the callouses again. Hmm. Where’s the pitch pipe?’

‘It’s in there. Just look. Men!’

Hutch chuckled, then produced the little pipe from the depths of the case and started tuning the guitar. Even the soft plunking sounds of the strings being tuned was charming. Starsky was sitting beside him, and relaxed back against the arm of the sofa, so he could watch his lover’s face in profile. 

In Starsky’s considered opinion, there was nothing wrong with the flexibility of Hutch’s fingers, or any other part of his body. His hands were beautifully tough and calloused all over too, and Starsky knew this well. When Hutch put his hands on Starsky’s naked body, and those callouses grated against his skin, the sensation of rough masculinity was so pure and perfect that at times Starsky thought he could come from that alone, even before Hutch touched his cock. 

He didn’t put any of those thoughts into words right now, though. Hutch’s profile was so intent and serious, in a different way than Starsky had ever seen. All the pain and anger of earlier had disappeared, at least from the surface. He tried out some different sounds – different chords, thought Starsky. His left hand was on the fingerboard – Starsky knew the term from some ancient memory of reading about rock music back in high school – and his right hand was strumming the strings. The rippling sounds as his fingers flashed thrilled all through Starsky’s body.

My God, he thought. Is there no end to the effect this man can have on me? Is everything he does sexy? No, that’s a ridiculous question. Of course it is.

Marcia had been sitting watching and listening to all this with a fascinated expression on her face. Now she got up and went over to her keyboard, which she’d leaned against the wall earlier. ‘Mind if I plug this in?’ she asked.

‘Go ahead,’ said both Starsky and Hutch, in unison. 

It was a small portable keyboard, with only three octaves. She plugged it in and set it up on the coffee table. Turned it on. Ran her hands down the keyboard, producing her own rippling notes.

Hutch looked at her, approvingly. She looked her approval back. They started playing together, trying out snatches of tunes. Starsky relaxed even more into the embrace of the sofa. He moved his bare feet closer to Hutch’s thighs, so he could enjoy the security of his lover’s body, without getting in the way of his guitar. He closed his eyes and drifted off on a wave of sound. 

It was dark and quiet in the apartment when he woke enough to let Hutch half-carry him to bed. The door to the girls’ bedroom was closed. Hutch helped him off with his clothes, then moved away long enough to close their own bedroom door. Starsky lay sprawled on their bed, watching Hutch undress. He was too tired and sleepy to respond in the way Hutch’s body deserved, he thought, but he knew Hutch would never expect him to. Hutch pulled off his own underwear, and his own cock sprang up, hard and erect. 

‘Baby, my baby,’ Starsky whispered. ‘Put it here.’ He opened his thighs just enough to allow Hutch’s cock to enter. ‘Oh, that’s so sweet. So sweet.’ Hutch rocked their bodies together, silently, as if they were on a boat, drifting down a river. Starsky put his hands on Hutch’s back, and held him close, letting his lover’s body just rest on his as they rocked and rocked, until he heard the soft, submissive sound Hutch made as he came. Hutch reached for the covers and drew them up over their entwined bodies, and Starsky went back to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Starsky woke wrapped in Hutch’s warm arms, as he did every day that started out worth living. He was in that wonderful state of being half awake and still lost in the world of dreams where everything was easy and untroubled. Hutch’s beautiful cock and his own cock were side by side and it was easy to thrust into the sweet channel created by Hutch’s strong thighs. Hutch was still asleep, but they each had total access to the other’s body, awake or asleep. He pushed Hutch over on his back and began to kiss him and thrust gently against him.

‘Are you molesting me?’ Hutch asked, in the soft, amused, honeyed voice he used with Starsky in bed. 

‘Well, yeah. Do you mind?’

Hutch’s warm laughter accompanied Starsky down into their delicious well of lust, as he flipped their bodies over, so that he was on top. Starsky looked up at the mirror on the ceiling and watched Hutch’s body thrusting and flexing over his own. They found a rhythm, something easy and not too tiring. Just…there, like that. Starsky held onto Hutch’s hips, holding him still so he wouldn’t drive Starsky past the point of no return into passionate ecstasy. Starsky climaxed first, then let Hutch loose. Lucky Hutch didn’t have to go to work today. Starsky lay under his body, sated, looking up into his lover’s beautiful face, then at his reflection in the mirror, then at his face, enjoying his freedom just to watch Hutch at his own pleasure. His face and eyes were dark with passion. His mouth was open. Starsky could tell he was close, so close. He pulled his head down, to rest on his shoulder. Hutch bit into Starsky’s neck, just at the moment of his own climax. A little groan of pleasure was all that escaped. It had been a while since they had made so little noise during sex. Since their academy days.

‘Ahh. That was fun,’ whispered Hutch, still out of breath. 

‘Mmm. I need a shower,’ said Starsky. ‘No, no. I better shower alone. I have to be at work soon. See you later?’

‘Oh, yeah. We have to do this again sometime,’ Hutch purred. Starsky made his escape, before Hutch tried an instant replay. 

He pulled his jeans on, just in case the girls were awake and active, but the apartment was quiet. He climbed into the shower and scrubbed up quickly, just in case Hutch showed up to make good on his implied threat of doing it again.

Breakfast! He needed breakfast. Hutch was already up though, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with the coffee maker on, pulling food out of the fridge. ‘You angel,’ said Starsky. They kissed, gently. Once one or both of them had showered, and were getting ready for work, even Hutch respected the divisions between bedtime and work time. ‘You better shower too,’ said Starsky. Hutch grumbled, but obeyed. 

The phone rang. 

‘Starsky and Hutchinson residence. Detective Starsky speaking.’

‘Oh, hello. This is Susan Warner. Is my daughter Marcia there?’

‘Um, yes. Just a moment, Mrs. Warner. I’ll see if she’s awake. Hold on?’

‘Certainly, Detective.’

Starsky went to the girls’ bedroom and knocked gently on the door. ‘Morning, Barbara. Marcia. Are you awake?’ 

A muzzy voice answered, ‘Sort of.’

‘I know the feeling,’ said Starsky. ‘If that’s Marcia speaking, your mother called, and I assume she wants to speak with you.’

‘Oh! Yes, yes. Be there in a moment. Just let me get some clothes on.’

‘No problem. I’ll tell her.’ Starsky headed back to the phone, grabbing a cup of coffee on the way. ‘Mrs. Warner? Marcia will be here in a moment. She’s just…ah! Here she is.’ He handed the phone off to Marcia and headed back to the kitchen to get something to eat, and to hide his amusement at Marcia’s appearance. She was wearing an odd assortment of clothes – some of her own and some of Barbara’s. Her mouth was rather reddened and not from lipstick. So, he and Hutch were not the only ones who had enjoyed a little morning affection, and that was the way life should be, he thought. He poured two more cups of coffee and went back out into the living room. 

Marcia was talking to her mother. ‘Sorry, Mom. We were so busy after we got here. I meant to call, but…Yes, I know, but you knew we got here safely. Thank Dad for getting their address for us, by the way. Having a lawyer for a father can be so useful. Barbara still hasn’t found the piece of paper in her purse…I told her she should have added it to her phone book on her smart phone….’ Marcia looked up at Starsky, challenging him to argue the facts with her. So that’s how they got our address, thought Starsky. They never explained. Scary smart girls.

‘Oh, Mom,’ she went on. 'They’re such gentlemen. We’re totally safe here. They put us up in their apartment, and even if they weren’t so totally gay and completely in love with each other…Yeah, I swear to you. Completely in love…Hang on a minute, Mom. Detective Starsky – Dave just brought me a cup of coffee, and I need that to wake me up…Ahh, that’s better. Don’t worry about us, Mom. Yeah, they’re two older guys, but we’re safe. They took us out to dinner last night, it was like a double date, and they’re total gentlemen, like I said. Barbara is Detective Hutchinson’s sister, so, like I said, we’d be safe anyway. I know. You’re just being a mother. I don’t mind. Umm, Detective Starsky wants to talk to you for a moment. He has to go to work soon. Okay.’ Marcia handed him the phone.

‘Hello, Mrs. Warner. You don’t need to worry about your daughter, but I’m so glad you do. Believe me.’

‘Detective Starsky, thank you for not being offended. I don’t remember Detective Hutchinson at all, and I know nothing about you, so….’

‘I understand, Mrs. Warner. Your daughter is in a different state, far away, and Hutch and I are strangers to you. But put your mind at rest. No harm will come to her on my watch, or Hutch’s. Listen, I have to go to work right now. I’m giving you back to Marcia, and if you like, Hutch can talk to you as well, okay. Bye for now.’

Marcia took the phone and started off on a long story about her flight to LAX, their dinner in the restaurant in WeHo, and how much fun they were having so far. He dressed quickly, then found Hutch in the bathroom combing his hair. ‘What’s been taking you so long, Blondie? Going for seconds all alone?’ He heard a choking noise behind him and turned to see Barbara turning red as a beet and sliding down the wall with laughter. ‘Sorry, Barb,’ he said. ‘Don’t sneak up on us like that. You never know what you might hear.’

'Or see,' Hutch contributed. 

‘Oh... Oh... Don’t apologize. I’m okay. It’s just….’ Hutch bent down to help her to her feet. ‘Dave, you don’t know what a relief it is, after the last couple of years at home. All the hatred and anger.’ Hutch pulled her into his arms for a comforting hug.

‘I picked up a few clues from Hutch,’ he told her. ‘But I have to leave for work now. Let me kiss Hutch goodbye, okay? You can watch, if you like.’

‘Go for it,’ said Barbara. And so he did.


	8. Chapter 8

Over the years since he and Hutch had become lovers, Starsky had developed a habit of keeping half his mind on Hutch and the other half on his work or other activity. It was a way to have his lover always in his thoughts, to never forget he was married to him, to never lose a certain psychic connection between them while they were apart. He could drive his car, go shopping for groceries, or chase down perps in alleys, and all the time be thinking of Hutch -- one way or another. Sometimes he thought about the last time they’d kissed, and how beautiful his mouth was. Other times he thought about the last time they’d fought, and how amazing his vocabulary was. 

This morning, as he drove to work, he thought about their sleepy love-making last night and when he woke this morning, and one thought led to another, as it often does. He found himself thinking of their first night together. 

****************

When he invited Hutch to have dinner with him that evening, he had imagined something fairly simple and straightforward, so to speak. Hutch had reacted to his direct come on, and Starsky had sensed that was the sort of sexual advance he appreciated. They went to that little Italian restaurant Starsky had recommended. It was gay-friendly, but not the kind of place in which to engage in PDAs, and Hutch was fine with that. They talked of their classes, what sort of police work they were interested in, movies they liked. All typical topics for a first date. 

Starsky was amused at times by heterosexuals who truly believed gay people didn’t date. That they jumped into bed immediately upon meeting each other. That all they thought about was sex, and never felt romantic love or even just liking for their partners. He himself had known gay people who dated for months before going to bed together. Starsky wasn’t averse to having sex with someone he’d just met, but he did like to get to know them out of bed as well. So, he talked to Hutch, tried to get to know him. Not the easiest project he’d ever taken on, but he did seem to be making some progress. 

‘Do you like to dance?’ he asked.

‘I like it, but I’m not very good at it,’ Hutch told him. ‘I like music though. All kinds,’ he continued, with that lovely, giving smile Starsky had noticed several times. 

‘There’s a club I like just down the street. Not too noisy. A lot of couples there, not a popular place for cruising. We could go there, dance a little if you like, or just talk a bit more.’ Starsky took Hutch’s hand in his own. ‘Make out a little?’

Hutch’s eyes met his, and the hunger in them was astonishing. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I…I think I need to sit a bit longer, though.’ The man actually blushed and looked down.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Starsky. Their eyes met again, and he knew. He smiled at Hutch, feeling more than a little triumphant. He leaned closer, and asked him in a soft voice, ‘You got a hard on? Me too. Let’s just sit quietly until they go away.’

Hutch nodded, and started a conversation about cars, which segued into talking about girls of all things. Talking about girls seemed to solve his problem and they finished their dinner, payed, and headed for the night club. Starsky was amused, but he was also mystified. Why would Hutch, who was without a doubt the most gorgeous human being he had ever seen, be so apparently filled with sexual need? Hutch wouldn’t have needed to go on the prowl to find a sexual partner. He could walk into any gay bar – or even any bar, period -- and just stand there and watch men and women fall at his feet. Maybe he was extremely picky, which was understandable, or maybe that look of near sexual starvation had been Starsky’s imagination.

Bay City was a progressive city, with laws protecting gay people, but it wasn’t West Hollywood. It was a bit rougher and gay clubs were still a little choosy about who they let in. Men in leather jackets were eyed a bit suspiciously if they entered nightclubs rather than leather bars. Starsky took Hutch’s hand and smiled at the bouncer out front. ‘Is there a cover charge tonight?’ he asked.

‘Ten dollars,’ said the bouncer. ‘It’s a good live band.’

‘My treat,’ Starsky told Hutch. ‘I asked you out.’ He dropped Hutch’s hand and paid the charge. 

‘Lucky guy,’ the bouncer told Starsky as he smiled and passed them through.

The live band was excellent, and it was playing a slow dance. ‘May I have this dance, sir?’ Starsky asked. Hutch smiled, though he looked a little nervous, and he agreed. ‘Just relax,’ Starsky told him. ‘Just let me…not lead, we’ll just stand here and sway to the music like those guys, okay?’

‘I’m okay,’ said Hutch. ‘Sorry for being nervous. It’s just that….’ He didn’t finish the sentence, seeming to freeze up.

Starsky took him in his arms. ‘Nothing to apologize for,’ he said. He started that intimate, swaying couples dance, without steps, just a way to enjoy each other’s bodies to the accompaniment of soft music in public. Hutch’s body felt wonderful in his arms. Warm and solid. Strong and muscular, but not in the over-muscled body builder way. They swayed like that for a while, through a couple of slow songs. Then the tempo sped up, and he felt Hutch stir in his arms. Hutch lifted his head from where it had been resting against Starsky’s own, and looked down into Starsky’s eyes. His eyes were dark with desire, the irises had almost completely disappeared, and the pupils were wide and unfocused. ‘We should leave,’ Starsky told him. ‘Let’s head home. Back to the campus, I mean.’ Damn, he thought. I wish one of us had their own apartment, but the cost is too high right now.

Hutch followed him out of the club. ‘Best ten dollars I ever spent,’ Starsky told the bouncer, who grinned back at him. Hutch didn’t react. He looked dazed. They got into the car, and Starsky started driving back to the academy. They were half way there when something in Hutch’s breathing alerted him. Starsky realized he had wound the man up too much. They would never make it to his room at the academy without some kind of embarrassing scene.

There it was: a quiet dead-end street. Huge live oaks. A little wood at the end, leading down into a gully. He veered off and parked, jumped out of the car, and opened the passenger side door. ‘Come on, baby,’ he told Hutch. ‘This has gone on long enough.’ 

Hutch jumped out looking terrified. ‘Don’t you want me?’ he begged. 

‘Too much to wait,’ Starsky told him, with as much reassurance as possible. How could Hutch even think…. Never mind. Deal with this now.

He pulled Hutch down into the gully. There was a big tree, and a hollow under the tree, filled with old dry leaves. ‘Down. Lie down,’ he ordered, and Hutch just folded, letting Starsky push him to lie flat. Letting Starsky open his fly and take out his engorged cock. Letting Starsky swallow him whole. Letting Starsky suck him dry while he moaned with pleasure. Baby, my baby, thought Starsky. What have you been doing to yourself, getting into this state? You should have an entire harem of beautiful sexy men serving your every need. Instead…. Instead you have me, and I’ve had lots of experience, trust me. I can give you anything your heart desires. What do you desire?

‘Starsky?’ Hutch whispered.

‘Yes, what do you desire?’

‘Would you let me fuck you?’

Starsky looked up into his lover’s pleading eyes. As often as you wish my lord, he thought. I’ve never let any man do that, but you can be the first. And the last. And every fuck in between. ‘Of course, buddy,’ he said out loud. ‘I have lube and condoms back in my room. If we tried to do it here I’d get leaves in my ass, hmm?’

Hutch sighed. ‘That wouldn’t be very good,’ he said. 

Starsky grinned up at him, then stood up and pulled him to his feet, in a light-hearted way. What was all this about, he wondered? I need to get to the bottom of this, so to speak, but not tonight. Later, when he trusts me more. He had no idea that all the clues wouldn’t fall into place for nearly a year. He understood Hutch’s sexual pain and suffering now, and had done all he could to alleviate it. But a new fear had arisen in his soul. Hutch’s sister Barbara had shown up, and that was wonderful, but what if more family members followed? If his sister could track him down, so could his so-called parents, and the implications were terrifying. 

***************

Now here he was at Metro. His new work day had begun. New murder cases to solve. New perps to chase down in alleys. He wanted Hutch beside him. Walking beside him in lock-step. His shoulder against his own in battle. Safe beside him, where he could take care of him. 

Someday.


End file.
